


in living mingled light

by runwithneedles



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien, Wings of Fire - Tui T. Sutherland
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, Flirting, Fluff, M/M, Valinor, pre-Flight of the Noldor, pre-Thangorodrim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-28 02:24:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17174075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runwithneedles/pseuds/runwithneedles
Summary: This is my Tolkien Secret Santa gift for @alikuu. :) Fluff and teasing.





	in living mingled light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alikuu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alikuu/gifts).



The light of the two trees filters through the leaves of Valinor like water sparkling in the sun. It is the twilight time, when Laurelin begins to fade and Telperion’s clear white light mingles, quieting thoughts, bringing rest.

Fingon wanders near the archery field, the silvery light doing little to calm his restless energy. He did not do well in the competition that day, and ostensibly he is here to practice his 500 yard shots.

Really he is thinking of Maedhros. Maedhros had beaten him soundly, but that was not the issue. The issue was how even thinking of the sight of Mae made his attention fracture into a thousand pieces, and then re-form to think of him only. The sun on copper hair, freckled shoulders, bright brown eyes, deep enough for drowning. All the muscle in his shoulders bunching as he prepared to fire an arrow……

“Are you mad?”

The tone was teasing, and technically Fingon HAD heard him come up behind him, but he’d thought it was the archery master, come to tell him to try again tomorrow. 

It wasn’t, it was the redheaded devil in the flesh, eyes twinkling with amusement and…..something that wasn’t amusement but Fingon was NOT going to think about it. 

“Of course not cousin, I let you beat me. You needed it, after that race the other day. How much did you lose by?”

Maedhros gets up in his face, so close that if he wanted to count every striation in his irises Fingon could have done that, he would absolutely do that, he could stand here till Laurelin’s light grew again and the morning overachievers arrived. 

“On Eru, cousin. Are you really twit enough to tease someone whose horse sprained an ankle. Don’t answer that, I know you. I know you are.”

He’s even closer now, and at “I know you” Fingon senses something, a desire, like a message whispered in his mind, speeding past on the wind

“I could know you better” it said. 

“Could you?” Fingon said aloud. 

“I could” Maedhros said, and Fingon does not think too hard about the fact that they just shared thoughts, he only puts his hand on the warm curve of Maedhros’ jaw and pulls him close till their foreheads touch. 

“I would” Mae says, barely above a whisper. 

Fingon just kisses him then, warmth and energy lighting his whole body like a bonfire set ablaze. He smells like…..tastes like...like the wine he drank at dinner and the bright earthy smell of the river from his swim earlier and whatever Maedhros is doing with his tongue Fingon would ride into battle for it. 

Finally they pull apart, mostly to breathe, and Fingon puts his hands up his cousin’s tunic, easily, lightly, promising without words to do it a thousand times more.

Maedhros laughs, and the sight of him, all sharp teeth and bright eyes and burnished hair….Fingon isn’t sure who his father is or what his middle name is or even where he lives, he just wants to look at him till Arda crumbles beneath them. 

“Fingon” 

On all the rivers and all the seas, he wants him to say that again.

 

“Let’s go for a swim.”


End file.
